a postcard from Berlin

1: An empty beer glass with lipstick on the rim

2: A pocket watch

3: A postcard from Berlin

A postcard from Berlin

She had sat studying his pocket watch for a long time.
It was old and it was beautiful and it was broken, and it made her think of her grandfather who'd passed away in March. 

Natalie finished her drink and glanced around the bar. She looked at her watch and tried to remember why she'd sent the postcard. It was the only act of theft she'd ever committed. Why the confession? No matter, it was done.

His wife had kept her appointment. Natalie walked across the bar and placed the pocket watch on the table in front of her. Their eyes met and for the briefest of moments, time stood still. 

Now she had to get out. She turned and left Brauhaus Mitte, walking quickly towards Alexanderplatz. The cold air and her disposition were at one. It was over.

She smiled to herself. She might never have been there except for the empty beer glass with lipstick on the rim and and the women crying at table 12, who she'd only met that one time, and whose life would never be the same again.

Natalie laughed quietly to herself. She was pathetic and he would never find her.